Better Living Through Science!
by Massik
Summary: Vault 27 was supposed to be an experiment in failure- but as the saying goes, "Desperate times call for desperate measures." Survival instincts are a trait that Vault-tec didn't factor in.
1. This is Your Lucky Day

This is Your Lucky Day

It has been a few months since there has been a lottery in the vault. My whole life stories have been told of the days when the bombs first fell. How there must have been a clerical error because double the amount of expected inhabitants had shown up with bags packed the day the sirens screamed. None were turned away, even though there clearly weren't accommodations for all. Even if they were asked to, who would stay above? Who would give their lives so that others would live? This and other vaults were, after all, sold off to the public as a chance to live on- for mankind to live on. Any true heroes bent on saving "the people" would soon be fused with the concrete and metal wreckage above. When Armageddon was confirmed by the overseer it was clear- there was no going back. No opening of the large cog of a door to excuse the excess populace. Not even when panic set in. Panic over food and water rations, medical supplies, clothing and Pipboys. The panic spread fast and recklessly throughout the vault- a plague of knowledge if you will- The knowledge that no one would stand a chance of survival under these conditions. The seas of people turned angry, demanding answers and solutions from the overseer, who seemed to have very few of either- even as they tore him limb from limb. Infighting broke out between those who wanted to flee the vault and those who feared the radioactive landscape outside, ultimately and ironically destroying the only way to get out from the inside, the overseers terminal. Vast stores of food and supplies, enough to last the 2000 inhabitants half of the 100 years those heavy doors were to be sealed, were seized by the frenzied group. Even though those riots lasted only a short time, a large amount of those supplies had been destroyed, polluting the air with a deeper despair. The worst was yet to come, however. Roughly one sixth of the men women and children in the vault had been trampled to death during the confusion and greed. The medical level filled up fast with their lifeless bodies. The medical personnel still "with it" enough to do their jobs couldn't move nearly fast enough to dispose of all of the bodies before they began to rot. A putrid stench filled the vault and many became sick- it was discovered some of the dead had been infected carriers of the new plague. The entirety of the vault had become a giant Petri-dish. After enough time passed, all that was left of the overcrowded vault were those who had been born blessed with immunity. Blessed...... Ya, right. Small reserves of food and medical supplies would need to last for another 94 years. I hear they would have been lucky for it to last another 20. Would have saved a lot of trouble, had everyone just died out way back when. But procreation continued and a subterranean tribal society formed inside of the living tomb. And then the day they all knew would come had arrived. The day the last of the food ran out. Buried under a quarter mile of rock and scorched city this vault reluctantly turned to cannibalism. Elderly and the lame were the first ones to be recycled back to the masses, but soon children and their parents were all that remained. Thus, the lottery was created- A fair and un-biased way to decide who gets to live, and who would sustain those survivors. It's been 80 years, give or take since the doors closed. Generations have lived and died here. Today, my generation will pass me by. Today is my lucky day- I've won the lottery.


	2. Dinner Guests

Dinner Guests

I walk now to The Elder's quarters, in full realization of my fate. And even as my perishing will sustain the others for a time, their fate is not any safer. I've heard there was a saying: "desperate times call for desperate measures." That's how all of this is justified and It's the only kind of times we've ever known. A part of me would like to surrender- to just get it over with. Yet somehow, this phrase still means something to me. The will to survive, though condemned still burns through the pages of my mind.

"Come in," The Elder says, interrupting my reflection of this notion. "This is the hardest part of my job, trying to make peace with those whose number has come up. What you have to think of is that it is not the end of you, but the continuation of the tribe. People before the war had no such honor in their deaths. Please, take comfort knowing your life has not been in vain, even in its ending"

It's a nice speech, but it's of little solace. She sits safely behind the desk across from me, knowing that as Elder, her number can never be drawn. My mind flashes back to significant times in my file. My first memories as a child, my first love, the days when my parents' numbers were drawn- these faces and events play out in my minds eye so vividly that I almost don't notice the console to the left of the elder has a red light flashing. All along the corridors, lights follow suit. Their lighting sequence urges you to follow them. I've never seen these lights illuminated in all of my years and by the look on The Elders face, neither has she. And then, over an intercom: "Elder Cyan, the vault doors…. They're… opening!" I don't waste time waiting for the elder to instruct or dismiss me. This entire underground universe has just changed. I race down corridors that are littered with perplexed onlookers. I want to be amongst the first to reach the vault entrance.

Light pours in through the once static portal so brightly that all who witness it cover their eyes and feign away. Lowering my hand and squinting, I can make out the silhouettes of our visitors.

"What the hell?" One of the figures steps out of the sunshine and into our rusty dank world. "I thought they were supposed to all be dead by now!"

"Yes, sir the archives…….." begins a man in a red robe, "the archives show this vault was to fail due to over population. They should have run out of food almost thirty years ago."

"Is the war over? Is it safe to return to the surface?" The Elder queries, feeling that her title still amounts to something..

"The Great War? That was almost 100 years ago." replies the first man. "Ain't nothin' up there now but raiders, monsters and sand, lady."

"Which one would you be?" I ask, stepping from the shadows. "And what's with this 'supposed to fail' noise that your friend in the dress was talking about?"

"I am Paladin Westin, Brotherhood of Steel. It's our job to make sure all this tech you've got down here isn't going to waste." Westin explains that they had just got back the raw data from some encrypted data they had downloaded during a recent recon mission of an Enclave base. The location and details of our vault were part of that data, along with the over-ride to open the doors from the outside. I listen for a time trying to get myself up to speed about what's been happening in a world that I've never seen.

"Look kid," continues West, "damn shame what those bastards at Vault-Tec did under the orders of the old government. We are only just beginning to understand their motives. All over the wastes, there's little science projects like this one going on. Hell, one vault didn't even close. Poor bastards never stood a chance. They roam the earth as ghouls now. Skin falling off, unable to uh… reproduce. The kicker is that they live for a real long time."

Questions fly out of my mouth almost as quick as they come into my head. "You say the 'Enclave' had this info on our vault? How did they get this data? Wasn't everything on the surface destroyed? Just who is the Enclave?"

"While it's true the old world governments are long gone," explains Westin "Some of the U.S. officials and politicians made off for a safe haven. Some say they were amassing the Enclave as a shadow army before the bombs even fell. Their powers of persuasion influenced far and wide, corrupting governments and multi-national conglomerates, including Vault-tec's administration side. This making any sense, now? Hello?" Westin waves his hand in front of my unfocused eyes. All of those people. The ones who perished down here, and in places like it. What did they die for? What could this suffering amount to that would benefit this Enclave?

"Where can I find them?" I demand of Westin.

"Whoa, kid. You've been though a lot." Westin points out. "Don't you want to collect yourself, get some tings together- you know take some time to process all of this?"

With a cold blank face I turn to him and reply, "Do you know how we survived down here this long?" the look on his face says he's afraid to answer my question, not wanting to confront the grim truth. I tell him anyway. "We are all cannibals here, forced to either die outright, or slowly kill off our numbers by feasting on each other. Just this morning, _I_ was on the menu. And now that we can leave, you're telling me to collect myself? You'll have to excuse me if I say I won't spend another minute in this place"


	3. The First Day of the Rest of Your Life

The First Day of the Rest of Your Life

I want to just leave. Fortunately, logic sets in. I head back to my shared quarters and to the one place that's mine alone, my footlocker. With a click the lock releases and the lid opens exposing a .44 magnum and a few boxes of ammo that lay covered in dust. I briefly wonder if they even work. The one sentimental item I have left is the wedding picture of my grandparents, a bulge clearly visible in my grandmothers belly. A key is taped to the back with an address:

2476 McKinley Dr.

Ventura, Ca

Just before dying, my father had told me that if the vault opened tomorrow, this is where we would go. I gather the few items that are mine and head back to the entrance.

"I thought you couldn't bare to spend another minute down here." jibes Westin with a black toothed smile as I pass him..

I keep walking and look back over my shoulder. "You figure with all the tech you steal, you'd have stumbled upon something as simple as a toothbrush by now," I retort, making Westin's grin turn to an embarrassed grimace. The junior paladins try unsuccessfully to disguise their laughter. Shaking his head he barks at them, "Back to work people, lets get this wrapped up and get the hell out of here!"

The Brotherhood crew finds only a few tech items of interest. Some sensor modules, water chips, pre-war books and derelict Pip-boys will have to do, much to the dismay of their scribe, Nunez. Fortunately for us, the files they had decrypted weren't all salvageable, otherwise they would have realized there was nothing too spectacular in our vault and I may have been stew meat by now. In return for the tech, they offer to take any who want to leave along with them as far as a town called Adytum on their return trip back to BoS headquarters. Though happy to be free, most decide to stay in the shelter of the vault. "It's their funeral." I think to myself as I finish loading up my revolver.

Joining me are Ragna and Erebus a brother and sister that were as opposite as I've ever seen of family members. Ragna was kind, her luminescence shone even in the darkest of times, often doling out small bits of optimistic wisdom. Her brother Erebus, on the other hand.... Well, I would need to keep an eye on him. Their parents suffered the same fates as my own. Far younger than most who found themselves orphaned, Erebus grew cold and ruthless in the wake of their loss, his older sisters words were of little consolation.

When its all said and done, three of us and the Brotherhood makes eight. With one last look I walk out of the only place I've ever known, hoping never to return

A sea of sand and rock greet us as we emerge, the winds howling across the vast openness. It's like none of the pictures that were kept in the vault. I try for a second to imagine what it must have looked like with trees and buildings. The faint outline of a road, barely visible under a thin dusting of dirt leads my eyes to the horizon. A hand slaps down on my shoulder. "Welcome to the wastes." Paladin Westin chuckles. "Listen up. We need to make it up that road and just over those hills, if we are to reach the traders outpost by........" He pauses and gives a look like he is unsure of the air that surrounds him.

_**SSSSKPT!**_

Scribe Nunez' chest explodes spraying a crimson to rival his robe over the party members standing around him.

"We have company!" alerts Westin as the drum of his Gatling Laser begins to spin. Junior paladins Rome and Amarosa crouch down for accurate shots and unload their weapons into the side of the mountain. Silence now.... Only the sound of heavy breathing and gargling as Nunez chokes out his last breaths. But why does Paladin Westin still have that look? What is he focusing on? Then I see it, a glint of light from the cliff side above. "Sniper! Gelwin, get a grenade up on that ledge, now!"

Shaking, the fledgeling soldier fumbles for a grenade, utterly missing in his first attempt. The second and more composed throw lands just to the left of the interloper and with its explosion comes a rock slide, burying the sniper along with the vault entrance.

"I knew this was a bad idea!" exclaims Westin. "Come all the way down to the bottom edge of old California with a unit that's barely fit to go scavenging. They could at least start giving our scribes armor when they have them coming out like this. Grab his holotags and gear, we cant stay here. More raiders are sure to follow."

And with that it was over. No big deal is made. No Ceremony or kind words. It dawns on me that death is just as prevalent outside as it was in that damned vault.


End file.
